


like an anthem in my heart

by braille_upon_my_skin



Series: the world we're gonna make [6]
Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Because I'm a sadist., M/M, Some angst concerning the aftermath of the fire, and the effects the fire had on Phillip and Phineas.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 11:06:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13716369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braille_upon_my_skin/pseuds/braille_upon_my_skin
Summary: Phillip revisits the fire in his nightmares, finding himself trapped at the heart of the inferno, fading as he waits for someone who will never come.Barnum's dreams are plagued by the same hellish visions.





	like an anthem in my heart

**Author's Note:**

> I originally intended for this part to go in a different and likely much angsty-er direction, touching on Phillip's alcoholism, but these characters have a life of their own and decided to resolve things in their own way.

 

\----

 

_Orange engulfs the landscape. There is heat,_ so much heat _, everywhere he turns. The air wavers around him, hindering his visibility, and as he staggers forward, searching desperately,_ frantically _through the piles of charred, burning rubble, it's difficult to breathe. Smoke pours into his eyes, fills his nose, steals the air from his lungs and replaces it with strangling, smothering black._

_He doesn't know who he is looking for, only that he_ has _to find them._

_Something explodes nearby and a splintering crack rings out. Sparks flare up from what was once a wall, perhaps a chair, singeing his clothes as flecks of embers rain onto his skin. He coughs, hard, doubling over. As he strains for each breath, he feels that his lungs may be forcibly expelled from his body._

_Hands on his knees, he gasps and struggles to see through the wall of blazing flames surrounding him on all sides._

Closing in on him.

_"Phillip!" He hears a voice calling somewhere beyond the flames._

_"I'm here!" He tries to reply, but his voice has been taken- eaten by the smoke that leaves him with only ash in his airway._

_Ash to_ choke on _until he succumbs and there is_ nothing left _._

_"_ Phillip _!" The voice calls again, both closer, and further away- sharp in its urgency, tremulous with fear._

_Another deafening crack slices through the dense, crackling, vacuum. Right beside him, now._

_His vision swims in and out. His leg is stuck, trapped beneath a pile of fiery debris, and no amount of pulling, dragging, or fighting frees him. The effort of the struggle causes him to cough, once more, almost ferociously, each cough sending shocks of pain shooting along his ribcage, stabbing what lies within._

_He is trapped, and he can't_ breathe _. There is no air, no matter how he tries to gulp it in. He is suffocating and his head is throbbing, his own blood dripping into his eyelashes._

_Heart pounding against his breastbone with enough violent force to render him ill, lightheaded and unsteady on his feet, knows he is going to die._

_"I'm_ here _," he croaks. Quiet. Broken. He knows that he cannot be saved, but he doesn't want to die alone. "Don't leave me._ Please _."_

_"Phillip!" He hears the voice cry out, one last time._

_But, it's too late, he's…._

"Phillip. _Phil_!"

Phillip's eyes snap open to the sight of Phineas Barnum's form crouched over him. The older man's eyes are wide with alarm, his brows knitting with concern, and his hand is on Phillip's face, cradling it.

Phillip slides his hand up to meet Barnum's, threading their fingers together. He uses the strong, callused appendage as a tether to pull himself back to reality. To _safety_. "Ph-Phin, I--" He draws in a stuttering breath that breaks into a cough tasting of smoke and ash.

They _linger_ with him, and he is certain that, regardless of how often he bathes, the amount of water he guzzles, how much clean air he greedily drinks in, the lines of black thumbprints smudging his insides will never be washed away.

"Hey, no. Shh," Barnum soothes him. He caresses Phillip's cheekbone, and settles down beside him, taking him into an embrace. "You're all right."

"The _fire_ … " Phillip presses his face into Barnum chest, bare underneath of his open shirt, unable to close his eyes, _afraid_ to, because he knows that the wall of flames will be _right there_ , waiting to devour him.

"Phil, look at me." Barnum takes Phillip's chin into his thumb and forefinger and tilts Phillip's face up to his.

It is only when he stares into Barnum's liquid-soft hazel eyes, takes in his comfortingly familiar features, and feels the sturdiness of the man's chest as he lies against it, that Phillip realizes he is trembling like a leaf battered by torrential gusts of wind.

He's embarrassed at his vulnerability, at the fact that he consistently finds his dignity and decorum unceremoniously yanked out from under his feet in Barnum's company, but cannot will himself to stop. The flames licking hungrily at his skin felt too real.

"There's no fire. The fire was extinguished a long time ago. You're _safe_."

"P.T…. "

"I promise you, you're _safe_. _Everyone_ is safe."

"You… " Phillip swallows. He pans his eyes over Barnum's face, every line and crease worn into it by time and the stress of life, the brightness illuminating the depths of his dark eyes, the commanding, but gentle presence he exudes. "You could have _died_ ," he says, and the word seems to echo throughout the otherwise silent bedroom, cacophonous in its finality. "Anne told me how you… _Christ_ , Phin."

"It's in the past." Barnum rests his cheek against Phillip's temple and runs a hand through Phillip's hair, stroking his scalp. "It's all in the past, now." His voice shakes despite his attempt to disguise it, and Phillip realizes with a pang in his chest that the assurance is as much for _Barnum, himself_ , as it is for him.

He tips his face up and nuzzles at Barnum's cheek and jaw, and litters a trail of kisses from the older man's chin to his mouth. "I'm here," he murmurs, an epiphany that resonates.

"I know," Barnum responds. But, his tone is distant, his eyes glazing over, as if he, too, is still trapped at the marrow of the fire somewhere in the back of his mind; gazing helplessly over the pile of rubble his hopes, dreams, and years of tireless effort and devotion were reduced to- crumbling, shattered pieces that he couldn't possibly begin to reassemble.

 "No," Phillip says, firmly. He wraps his arms around Barnum's shoulders and scoots up on the bed to put himself at eye-level with the showman. "I'm _here_ ," he repeats with conviction.

Barnum shakes himself from his melancholy reverie and meets Phillip's eyes. "Phillip, I'm _so_ sorry," he says hoarsely. "I don't believe I ever apologized to you for leaving, and I--"

Phillip touches his nose to Barnum's and draws him in, the contact effectively silencing him. "You came back. You came back for the show, your family, for _me_." He brushes the tip of his nose against Barnum's and leans back just the distance necessary for them to lock eyes. "That's all that matters."

Barnum breathes out, the exhalation stuttering against Phillip's face in the mere inches between them. "I _had_ to." He averts his gaze and Phillip feels him drawing back, distancing himself. "You were right. I risked everything on a foolish, impulsive gamble. And, came home to ruins. If I had just listened to you and Charity, I-- "

"Stop it." The words are harsh, but Phillip's inflection is anything but. Scolding, he recognizes, is the last thing Barnum needs, right now. Thus, he tempers his tone, softens it. "As much satisfaction as it brings me to hear you admit I was right, self-deprecation is not only unproductive… it's _unlike_ you. P.T. Barnum does not dwell on what could have been. He doesn't wallow in his mistakes."

Silence stretches on for a long beat. Phillip hears the saliva sliding down Barnum's throat as he swallows.

"You sound so sure of that," Barnum finally says, a strained smile quirking the corners of his mouth.

"Because I _am_ sure of it." Phillip leans in to press a kiss to Barnum's lips in testament to his unwavering conviction. He feels Barnum slowly, _painstakingly slowly_ relax under him, the muscles in first his jaw, then his arms, then the rest of him going slack. Breaking off with a gentle nip at the man's lower lip, Phillip tells him, staring into his eyes from under his eyelashes. "P.T., you're allowed to drop the facade of the extravagant and disreputable showman. There are times when I'd prefer you do. You're allowed to be _human._ But, I'll be damned if I'll let you beat yourself up for things you can't change."

Barnum's smile is authentic, but faint. "Darling, you're loose with your tongue when you're tired."

The comment takes Phillip by surprise. He furrows his brows, trying to make sense of the latter half of it, but, more pertinently, is blindsided by the wave of emotion sweeping through his chest at Barnum addressing him as _Darling_. "Phineas, you--"

"Back to sleep. Come on." Barnum touches his nose to Phillip's, then coaxes him in, closer, until Phillip's face is buried in the crook of the showman's neck.

Phillip endeavors to fight back the wave of exhaustion lapping at his mind, a twisting in his gut a suspicion that something remains unresolved, but Barnum's body is warm, so _very warm_ , and the prospect of being swept away appeals to Phillip more and more as he loses himself in the steady tempo of Barnum's heartbeat. "Being partners means… " he mumbles thickly, slurring and brows knitting as he tries _so hard_ to say the words perched right on the tip of his tongue. But, the words retreat and dissipate, and Phillip's mind follows not far behind.

 

.x.

 

On any average day, P.T. Barnum wears what he would describe as "tastefully disheveled", well; mussed hair, rumpled shirt collar, wrinkles and creases in his dress slacks, a fine layer of stubble after forgoing shaving in the morning. It has frustrated Phillip on more than one occasion to see the varying to minuscule amount of effort his partner puts into getting prepared for the day ahead, while Phillip, himself, is standing before a mirror, raking a comb through his hair repeatedly to ensure that not a strand is out of place.

It becomes apparent to Phillip that this is anything _but_ an average day, when he notes the ringmaster's mental absence during every conversation a member of the circus troupe attempts to engage him in. Upon Barnum's arrival at the tents, Charles, Lettie, and O'Clancy had to greet him twice to get a response from him, and a distracted, half-hearted one, at that, which spurred the three of them to trade puzzled looks.

Barnum sleepwalks through his discussion of the acts planned for tonight's show, and, hearing him talk through the placement of the hoops for the lions to leap through, Phillip is hit with a realization and rushes to the office, heart pitched off-balance.

He bustles through the door and tears through the stack of documents sitting on the desk, awaiting his analysis and approval. Right beneath a form from the bank, he finds it: today's paper, with yet another denigrating headline about Barnum's Circus plastered across the front in bold black print.

His mind races with methods of disposing of the damn thing, hiding the contemptuous object from Barnum's line of sight. He could take it out back, shred it, and use it as lining for one of the horses' stalls. He could shove it into a desk drawer, stick it in the pages of his massive, hard-backed collection of all of Shakespeare's works, hand it over to a member of the troupe and let them do as they pleased…

_Anything_ but let Barnum-

The door bursts open and Barnum stumbles in, looking every bit like he intends to plant himself in the desk chair and set down roots.

Phillip schools his stunned expression into a casual, subdued one, and hides the paper behind his back.

Evidently, not swiftly enough, for a flicker of a smile tugs at Barnum's lips and he asks, "Are you… hiding something from me?"

"What?" Phillip forces out a high, strained laugh. "Why on earth would I be hiding something from you?"

"Phillip… " Barnum eyes him and takes a step forward, craning his neck in an attempt to peer down Phillip's back, past his head.

Phillip tightens his hold on the paper, scrunching it up and praying that it won't make a sound to alert Barnum to its existence.

"Come on. Let me see what you have there."

"It's nothing!" Phillip insists.

"Phil, what are you hiding?" Laughter bubbles out of Barnum's throat, as if this is some sort of a game to him. It's the first hint of the real Phineas Barnum at somewhere near full luminosity that Phillip has seen all morning, and Phillip feels the sharp, stinging bite of regret, knowing that there is no prize to be awarded, and no semblance of a victory to be felt by either party.

Last ditch, he considers shoving the damned paper down his trousers, but has a feeling not even that would impede Barnum, relentless as the man has proven himself to be. 

Barnum moves in, circling like a vulture, and Phillip takes a quick shuffling step to the side, maneuvering in a manner that keeps the paper obscured. It's like a bizarre dance, Phillip countering every one of the showman's steps, dodging left when Barnum goes right, feinting and swerving and, all the while, wishing he could just cast the paper into a fire and cancel any deliveries to the circus unless they've been screened prior.

Phillip misjudges one of Barnum's maneuvers and ends up in the man's arms, being lifted off of the ground.

" _Phin_ eas!" He protests.

"I have you!" Barnum declares triumphantly.

Phillip's heart pangs. "Yes, you have me."

"Now, are you going to show me what you've been trying so hard to hide?"

This close to Barnum's face, Phillip cannot escape the phantom of the man's listless, broken gaze that haunts the dark corners of his mind. Phillip revisits the fire in his nightmares, finding himself trapped at the heart of the inferno, fading as he waits for someone who will never come.

Based on what he could glean from their a.m. conversation fueled by lowered guards and broken sleep, Barnum's dreams are plagued by the same hellish visions.

Fire; senselessly destroying everything they held dear and taking them away from each other permanently.

The same fire that also, despite or maybe even _in spite of_ the odds, brought them _back together_.

"Yes," Phillip says, gulping. "I will. But, first, I want you to know something."

Barnum has sensed the shift in mood, and he swallows, as well, a muscle in his jaw flexing as his body stiffens, all glimmers of laughter and geniality snuffed out. He meets Phillip's eyes, despite his body language screaming that he has no desire to become privy to whatever knowledge Phillip intends to impart on him.

"P.T., I'm your _partner_. That means I own half of everything you do, and, in turn, share half of the load. So…" Phillip swallows, again, his throat constricting under the weight of the burden he is unloading onto Barnum's shoulders. "This…" Heart heavy, he reveals the crumpled up newspaper and smoothes it out to the best of his ability, watching Barnum's eyes cloud almost immediately as they skim over the latest defamatory God damned headline.

"Phillip, you…" Barnum's voice is low, strained.

Phillip tosses the paper to the floor, tempted to spit on it. "Phineas, that sort of thing-- "

"You didn't have to hide that from me," Barnum murmurs. "I'm not bothered by the critics."

"That's not the point. You don't have to handle them on your own, anymore. Okay? You don't have to shoulder the responsibility for everything."

Barnum isn't listening to him, again, lost in the canals of his own mind. Phillip cannot shake him, though he _longs_ to, so he settles for grabbing onto Barnum's necktie and tugging at it until Barnum is forced to meet his eyes.

"Phineas, you saved me from that fire," he says emphatically, and repeats, just in case, "You _saved_ me."

"If I hadn't left, there wouldn't have--"

"You don't know that! A protestor could have just as easily thrown an oil lamp and caused the fire while you were here. That's completely irrelevant. What _is_ relevant, what really _matters_ , is that you came back. You risked your _own life_ , made your wife and your daughters watch you run into a _burning building_ , all because you-- " Phillip's voice breaks off, quavering like it never has before. He doesn't feel the tears streaming down his face until he sees Barnum's face crumpling and feels Barnum's hands cradling his jaw, the pads of his callused thumbs wiping the trails of moisture from his cheeks. "Fuck, _Phin_."

"Phillip, _God_ ," Barnum breathes. Slowly, he lowers Phillip, setting his feet back on the floor, only to take him into a bone-crushing embrace, pressing him to his chest as if his life depends on having Phillip near to his heart as possible.

Phillip's chest shudders as he sobs into Barnum's coat, his heart aching as if it has cracked, shattered, and imploded, leaving a gaping black hole in his chest. "You could have _died_ , because of me."

Barnum rests a hand on the back of Phillip's head, stroking through his hair. "Not 'because' of you. Don't you _ever_ say that."

"I just… I want to--" Phillip breaks off, sniffling as a fresh wave of sobs wrack his body, his shoulders caving in with the force of them. "I want to be a pillar that you can lean on. I want to bring even a fraction of the joy into your life that you brought into mine."

"Phillip, you do. You _do_ ," Barnum promises, littering kisses on the crown of Phillip's head, on the scar near his hairline, the bridge of his nose, his cheeks. "You are the pulse of this circus, the reason it still stands. You have no idea how _much_ joy that brought to me. Had you died in that fire, I… " He swallows, his jaw trembling. His dark eyes mist and he comes undone, revealing a vulnerability that Phillip has not seen since the day they stood on the rubble of their previous home.

The black hole in the cavity of Phillip's chest expands, intending to absorb the entirety of him, and Phineas, too, if it has its way.

"I'm certain a part of me would have died with you," Barnum whispers, so soft and so broken that Phillip believes him.

Sadness enveloping him, threatening to drown the both of them in a vast, unending ocean, Phillip lifts a hand to Barnum's face and tips it down. He touches noses with the older man, then brings their mouths together in a gentle, chaste kiss.

Barnum kisses back, softly, reverently, his fingers entangling in Phillip's hair as he draws him in closer. Phillip's hand slips to Barnum's neck and he uses that grip as leverage to hoist himself up and deepen the kiss, earning a surprised grunt from his partner that streams through their joined mouths. He licks at Barnum's lips and Barnum leans back to kiss at the salty tracks left by Phillip's rivulets of tears. "Your nightmares… " he says, his voice hoarse.

"Are _not_ your fault," Phillip vows, his own voice just as hoarse. "Phineas, you encouraged me to live." He bites at the skin over Barnum's Adam's apple, and feels the resulting fluttering staccato breath under his mouth. He glances up at the showman through his eyelashes and tells him, the familiar yawning, acute pangs of neediness seizing him, "So, let's be alive together."

Eyes already darkening, pupils dilating, Barnum's chest swells. He lowers himself to the floor and takes Phillip, who goes easily, without a fight, with him.

With a tenderness and grace absent from their previous coupling, they shed layers of clothing until they're sitting together in nothing but their shirts, slacks, and shoes.

"Are you sure you want to-- ?" Barnum begins.

Phillip quiets him with his own mouth, swallowing the remainder of the question in a kiss. "When have you ever concerned yourself with what someone else wants?" He asks, teasing.

Barnum's smirk, something Phillip never truly thought that he could miss, returns to pull at his mouth, and Phillip traces it with his finger, then, his tongue. "You stole my heart, you know," Barnum tells him when Phillip breaks off.

"Could say the same about you," Phillip answers, his insides atremble at how close that confession is to what he really means- to the three words that have been flooding and overriding his senses since first show after the fire. Since the night that Barnum caught his eye while singing, _"It's everything you ever need"_ , then attempted to hand the show over to Phillip, who never asked for it and would have been more than content to simply watch Barnum command the ring and charm, captivate, and delight audiences for the rest of his life.

He unbuckles Barnum's belt and slides the strip of leather free, then begins unfastening the buttons on the older man's trousers as Barnum makes quick work of Phillip's own, sliding them swiftly down Phillip's thighs.

It's uncomfortable when Phillip first settles onto Barnum's lap, but with the encouragement of Phillip's need compelling him to plead, "Take me, Phin. _Fuck me_. Make me forget," and Barnum's hands on Phillip's hips to control the pace and the rhythm, Barnum fills him just as achingly full as before, and pleasure soon builds inside of Phillip, spiking toward a towering peak with each thrust. 

"Think you'll be able to keep quiet?" Barnum growls with a devilish glint in his eye, intentionally stimulating that nerve, brushing against that _spot_ that drove Phillip into a frenzy, as he grips Phillip's hips tight enough to leave bruises, pulling Phillip's smaller form against him.

Phillip clamps down on a moan, hands seeking a foothold on the slope of Barnum's broad shoulders, arms wrapping around Barnum's neck and clinging as he rolls his hips, chasing out shadows and emptiness and shaking off ashes, and hoping that he is doing the same for the ringmaster.

Mouth against Phillip's ear, Barnum lulls, his voice a deep, sensuous spear that pierces Phillip clean through, fingers tracing the scar on Phillip's side, "You make the most beautiful noises when you're being ravaged. You unravel so nicely, so _breathtakingly_ , and feel like a piece of Heaven on Earth. Oh, Phillip, my darling, arresting Phillip. I could fuck you forever."

"P-Please," Phillip begs, his voice shaking with the effort of regulating his volume. " _Please_ , ohh, Phin."

"Shhh." Barnum pushes his nose into Phillip's hair and, without warning, closes his hand around Phillip's length.

Phillip has to bury his face in the crook of Barnum's neck to keep from shouting.

They meld together for just a few thrusts more, open shirts baring their hearts to one another, and then Phillip climaxes, tears welling in his eyes and streaking down his face anew, his body spasming as Barnum takes everything he has to give.

Barnum kisses Phillip's left brow bone, the corner of his mouth, and, at last, his lips, reaching his peak shortly after.

How the notorious showman is able to remain silent as his body surrenders to the waves of overwhelming carnal ecstasy beating at it both bewilders and impresses Phillip, who feels sufficiently debauched and emotionally eviscerated.

He touches his forehead to Barnum's and closes his eyes, soaking in the sounds of their mingled, rapid breaths slowing back to their normal rhythm as his hands caress Barnum's chest and Barnum's hand lies flat over Phillip's heart. 

"Do you suppose we've been missed?" Barnum asks.

"Probably," Phillip answers, not ready to get up. Not just yet.    

"Mm, _now_ who's the one shirking responsibility?"

Phillip doesn't have to open his eyes to know that Barnum is smirking, again, and he butts the older man's head lightly with his own. "Am I really the pulse of this circus?" He asks, eyes fluttering open lazily.

"You are," Barnum says seriously. "If I am the heart, you are the pulse. Partners, fifty-fifty, remember?

Phillip's core is rocked, overcome with a swell of love.

"I'd gladly give up everything for your happiness and your safety," Barnum swears, his voice and his gaze brimming over with an equivalent amount of affection.

"You don't have to. That's what being partners means."

Barnum's smile is so genuine, so easy, so radiant, that Phillip doesn't have any reservations about returning it.

 

.x.

 

Barnum takes the ring, that night, with a kiss from Phillip, and Charity, Caroline, and Helen sitting in the audience, cheering for their husband and father, their eyes glowing with the same pride flooding Phillip's chest.

Phillip watches from the shadows as Anne and W.D. soar through the air, and Charles stands astride his horse as it prances around the ring. He basks in the flash and sharp crack of the whips of the lion tamers, the rhythmic marching of the horses, the elephants blocking out the lights as they rear up on their hind legs, and Lettie dancing at Barnum's side as they lead the rest of the ensemble through the routine.

Barnum glides his fingers along the brim of his signature top hat and tips it in the direction of his first family, flashing them a brilliant, sincere grin.

Then, he turns to Phillip, locking eyes with him as the final _Come alive!_ reverberates in a perfect blend of harmony and heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
